War of the Word
by James Shepherd
Summary: Twenty years after the fall of Galbatorix, Eragon has established the Dragon Riders in New Vroengard. But when a Rider on a black dragon arrives, trouble begins to brew. Dissent is sewn in the ranks, and the Order schisms, leaving Eragon on the losing side of a war against the Order he built. Only Victoria, a young elf, and her golden dragon Sol can stop the coming storm.
1. Everything I Ever Wanted

**Author's Note: So, like I said in my profile, I created this account specifically to write this story. I will be uploading weekly, and will be following the storyline laid out by my friend Drizzt's BF. He knew the whole story when he started writing, so none of this is actually my idea *guilty look.***

**Chapter One:**

**Everything I Ever Wanted**

Waiting was the bane of Victoria's existence. She had been waiting her whole life, short as it may have been, for this moment. But now, these last few hours felt as long as the ten previous years. She took a deep breath. It would be soon now; she just needed to occupy her mind to pass the time until the Elders came. Of course, that was far easier said than done. How could she take her mind off this? This, the biggest moment in her life! Today, she would find out what she would do for the rest of her incredibly long life.

Today, she would be taken before the dragon eggs.

All elves were taken before the eggs when they turned ten, and if a dragon hatched for them, they were sent to New Vroengard for training. Ever since she was old enough to be impatient, she had been impatiently waiting for this day. Now it was upon and she was _still waiting. _She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to do anything other than sit and wait. Yet here she was, sitting and waiting.

She tapped her foot, the shifted. Then she began drumming her fingers. After that, she tapped her foot and drummed her fingers, and before long, she was tapping out a rhythm. She looked out the window at the sun. She tried to avoid looking as long as she could, because she knew looking at the sun only made it feel like it was moving slower, but she couldn't help herself.

The Elders would come at sundown. They always did. The child would be taken before the eggs as the last strip of sun descended past the horizon, and the child would remain for twenty-four hours. When, on the next day, the sun descended again, the Elders would come again, and take the child away. If a dragon hatched for the child, they would be sent to the East. If not, they would carry on their lives in the realm of the elves.

Victoria shivered. The idea of carrying on her life in Ellesmera forever was terrifying to her. How could she live in a quiet city forever when there was so much adventure beyond its bounds? Sure, she could ride out into the world, a traveler with blade to swing and tale to tell. She could take up the bard's life.

But what would that life bring her? Adventure, yes. But the Dragon Riders commanded respect from all corners of Alagaesia. They were the greatest warriors in the realm, riding their winged mounts and wielding their named blades. She could have a blade of beautiful red, or blue, or violet, whatever was the color of her dragon. She could picture the blade clearly in her mind, a lovely curving piece, with a sculpted dragon for the hilt.

It was then, during her daydreams, that she heard the quiet _tap tap tap _on her door. She sprung to her feet before she'd even processed the movement, and raced to the entrance. She swung the portal wide and saw what she had been waiting all day to see: the faces of the three Elders, aged and beautiful. Two men and a woman stood before her, with silver hair and fine features. Standing before them, she could not help but feel self-conscious of her own appearance.

In contrast to their shining silver hair, Victoria's was a plain blonde, and her eyes were brown, rather than the shining hues of other elves. When she mastered the magic of it, of course, she could change her appearance as she desired, but it would be several years before she learned even the basics of it. It came innately to elves; usually they would begin to understand it around the time of puberty.

She knew that in any human city, she would be considered inhumanly beautiful because, well, she wasn't human. But this was the heart city of the elves, where the most gorgeous of beings resided. She was but one beauty among hundreds.

The Elders smiled at her, sensing her emotions, as they were known to do. Then, they turned without a word and led her toward the Palace of the Queen. Excitement and trepidation warred in her mind and stomach, for she knew that the next twenty-four hours would decide her fate: Dragon Rider, or nobody. She knew that Riders were few and far between, especially in the twenty years since Eragon Shadeslayer had expanded the Rider Bond to include Dwarves and Urgals. Being chosen by a dragon had always been a marvelous thing, but now elven Riders were sparser than ever. But this didn't stop her from hoping against hope that she would be one of the few.

They entered the palace with but a strip of light left above the horizon. The Elders led her through the twisting corridors of the palace to the place where her destiny would be decided. Anyone who was just passing through would never had thought twice about the door the Elders stopped in front of. It was plain, by elven standards, nothing grandiose about it. Even the protective enchantments were so masterfully worked as to leave almost no detectable trace. It was when the Elders opened the door that the awe set in.

Beyond the doorway were hundreds of dragon eggs, each sitting on pedestal, of every color imaginable: blue, red, purple, green, black, white, and dozens of others. Some were even multi-colored; she could see one that was mottled black and red, and another split perfectly down the middle with one white half and one black half. She was so awestruck, she didn't even notice as the Elders shut the door behind her and left.

And suddenly she was alone. The room was enormous. Larger than she could have fathomed. It seemed to stretch on infinitely before it hit the back wall. She began to walk back, passing a dozen eggs with each row. She spotted one of a beautiful violet, and walked over to it. It was the most beautiful color she'd ever seen, lighter and bluer than most, but still identifiably purple. She placed her hand against it, and ran her fingers across the smooth surface.

She looked around, scanning the eggs for any activity, but there was none. She forced down the feelings of trepidation. Only one egg had ever hatched in the first hour. Most did not hatch until the sixth or seventh. Hatching rates continued up until the twelfth, which had the highest number of hatchings. After twelve hours, it began to taper off again, decreasing in likelihood up until the twenty-fourth hour. No eggs had ever hatched in the twenty-fourth hour.

She knew it would be a long wait, so she settled in. They had provided her bread and cheese and greens, and jug of water with a silver cup, all of which were sitting on a small table with a single chair beside it. She was too nervous to eat, so she went to the chair and sat. A thought about how she had waited all day to simply do more waiting flitted across her mind, but she shoved it away. She again began her various tappings, until she was playing her legs, the chair, the table, and the floor like the finest of elven drums.

She continued to fidget away the time for an hour or more. As she did, she could feel her eyelids growing heavier. Even through the excitement and anxiety, she needed to sleep. She tried to force herself to stay awake, but her eyes kept closing of their own accord, and eventually she just stopped trying to open them again.

She awoke still in the chair. Her eyes flicked around, but there was no way of knowing what time it was. The chamber was lit by magical fire, and was not open to daylight. She figured it must be morning, for as far as she could see, no egg had shifted, and there was nothing else in the room to rouse her.

Suddenly the nervousness set in again. If she had slept through the night, it meant that twelve hours had passed, and no egg had yet hatched. She was on the downward side of the slope. With every passing minute, it became less and less likely that an egg would hatch, a fact that she was acutely aware of.

Trying to subdue the nervousness, she stood, and grabbed a hunk of bread from the table. She wandered the aisles, looking at the different eggs, trying to see if any of them had shifted since she last looked at them. But none had. She again came to the violet egg, which was as still as all the others. Nervous and anxious, her tapping began again, this time just against her legs or the edges of the pedestals.

It was three hours before nervousness fled and despair set in. She sat back in the chair, her head lowered. She resolved not to shed tears. She would not appear weak. She would leave with her head held high, and she would take up the adventurer's life. She didn't need a dragon; she could do just fine on her own. She'd make a name for herself as a traveling bard, and she would command the attentions of others everywhere she went.

But even as these thoughts played through her head, she couldn't shake the disappointment of not being chosen. What made her unworthy? Why did the others who had been chosen deserve this but not her? In a flash, her disappointment turned to anger, and she stood and violently hurled a burst of fire at the back wall. It jetted back, illuminating eggs as it went. And as it soared, one shining egg caught her eye. A golden egg near the very back of the room which, as the fire passed by, she could have sworn she'd seen move. She dashed toward it, a new hope rising in her. But when she neared it, it was not moving. It was as still as all the others.

Despair filling her once again, she sunk down against the egg's pedestal. She wasn't even aware of the hours that had passed when the Elders came to retrieve her. They entered the room wordlessly, and she began to stand. But as she did, she knocked into the golden egg, and it fell from its pedestal. Her elven reflexes kicking in, she whipped around and reached for it, but froze when she saw the egg.

Or what was left of it. The egg was in a dozen pieces, and in the middle, was a tiny golden dragon. The tiny creature looked up at her, tilting its head curiously. Victoria was so awestruck, she didn't even notice that the Elders had gathered around her until one of them spoke.

"The dragon is yours, child," said the woman. "It has hatched for you." Her awe turned to joy. She dropped to her knees in front of the dragon, and it approached her carefully. She reached out gently, carefully, and just made contact with the dragon's nose. She immediately recoiled as a painful burst of energy shot through her. She looked again and there it was on her left palm: the gedwëy ignasia. The mark of a Dragon Rider. She reached forward again, and the golden dragon jumped and landed on her arm, crawling up to her shoulder.

She turned to face the Elders, who were all smiling. "It's good that an egg hatched. Elven Riders are sparse these days," he said quietly. "Are you happy, child?"

"It's everything I ever wanted."


	2. Sol

**Author's Note: So, I'm not going to offer any excuse as to why I haven't updated this in two years. It's been two years. No excuse would work. But on that note, I do have a reason for returning to this now, when it's been so long. Three months after I posted that first chapter, I graduated from high school. I didn't write over the summer, and when I went to college, I simply didn't have time, and it got left behind. **

** But some things have changed in my life (I recently moved from the West coast to the East, switched schools, and things like that) and I have decided to get serious about writing. I like it. I'm good at it. Thing is, it's not easy to get critique****s**** on your writing. That's why I'm here. None of you are publishers or literary critics (or maybe you are; what the hell do I know?), but neither are most people who read books. **

** So when I ask you all to review this, what I'm actually asking is that you rip it apart. Anything you think needs improvement, let me know. It's the only way I'll get better.**

Chapter Two:

Sol

Victoria stepped off the dock onto the shores of Lake Eldor. The sand was wet, and made a squelching sound under her feet. Her golden dragon, still unnamed, plodded along beside her. His legs were short, barely long enough to lift his belly off the ground, and he waddled rather cutely. Victoria smiled down at him. An escort of elven dignitaries stepped behind her, though their steps were light, and made no sound on the wet sand. Victoria grimaced. Some elf she was.

A half-dozen horses followed the dignitaries off the ship, as well as a lone pony. Another hundred paces and the sand gave way to long grass, blowing lightly in the breeze. The plains stretched on seemingly endlessly in every direction; a sea of pale green, as daunting as the real thing, in Victoria's mind. The dignitaries mounted their horses, and one of the women helped Victoria climb atop the pony. Victoria's golden dragon flapped its tiny wings, futilely attempting to lift itself off the ground and up into the saddle with her.

_Victoria, _it intoned, somewhere deep in her mind. It looked up at her with wide eyes, and Victoria realized that it was scared she was going to leave it.

_It's okay, _she thought. _You're coming, too. _She didn't know if he could understand her or not, but she tried to think it as reassuringly as she could. The dragon seemed to calm a little, and when the elven woman lifted him into the saddle in front of Victoria, he dug his claws tightly into the leather. Victoria stroked his back, doing her best to comfort him. She felt him relax a little, loosening his death-grip on the saddle.

_It must be scary, _she thought. _You're just a baby, and you're getting packed halfway across the world._

The little dragon looked up at her. _Victoria. _

Victoria smiled. _Yes, that's me, _she chuckled. _Given any thought to your name, yet?_

_Victoria, _said the dragon.

_No, that's my name,_she said, laughing as best she could in her mind.

The group set off at a trot, leaving the shores of the lake behind. They rode for hours, and when Victoria looked back, it looked the same as when she looked in any other direction. She wondered momentarily how the dignitaries knew where they were going, and her fingers began to tap across her dragon's spine. She pushed the thought away. They had done this many times over the years; they knew what they were doing.

They had stepped off the ship at ten that morning. Events had transpired quickly after the dragon hatched; she'd been taken before Queen Arya immediately after the Elders came to get her. The queen was intimidating, to say the least. Her raven hair fell around her sharp features, and her green eyes were penetrating in a way that Victoria had never experienced, like she was looking into or through her, rather than at her.

But she had smiled at Victoria, and spoken with a soft, motherly voice. She had seemed happy, in a rather distant way, as though disinterested in the happenings. She told Victoria that she should be proud to be representing the elves in New Vroengard, just as they were proud of her. "Anyone destined for a dragon is also destined for greatness," she had said. Victoria was too awed at the time to say anything, and the queen seemed to understand.

Victoria was on a horse by the end of the day, her few belongings in a knapsack on her back. She had made the week-long trek to Silthrim, where she had boarded a ship, and sailed down the Gaena River, alongside her dignitary escort. The ship was sped by elven magics, and had reached the Eastern shore of Eldor in under two days.

And then it was off into the Grass Sea. Three hours into the ride, and Victoria's legs were screaming for relief. The dignitaries rode with straight backs, speaking quietly to one another, and looking very, well, dignified. Victoria rode behind them, doing her best to mimic their class. At ten years old, results were questionable at best.

Night was nearing before they sighted their destination. Away on the horizon was a copse of trees, insignificant were it not for the fact that it was the only landmark for miles in any direction. The trees were sparse affairs: thin-trunked with a bush of leaves at the top, stretching up from the ground like bony fingers. The dignitaries visibly relaxed as they came into view. Their journey was nearing its end, and though their elven endurance carried them, the featureless Sea was tiring on the mind just as much as the journey was on the body.

The sun set as they came into what would have been the shadow of the trees. The four dignitaries slid from their mounts, and the same woman who had helped her before brought Victoria and her dragon down from the saddle. They built a small campfire beneath the trees using the dead limbs that had fallen from them, and the flickering light threw unnerving shadows across the grass around them. They ate a traveler's meal of bread, cheese, and nuts. Victoria's dragon curled next to her on the ground, snuggling close to her hip. She reached down and gently scratched him beneath his chin, a gesture she had found he enjoyed.

It was quiet that night, but for the quiet chirp of distant crickets somewhere out in the Sea. The dignitaries whispered amongst themselves, some distance from Victoria. It was strange, she thought, how the deference they treated her with now felt so like the patronization she had been treated with as a child. Of course, she was still a child, but now she was a Dragon Rider, too.

Victoria didn't notice when sleep took her, but when the sun rose, she did as well. Her dragon was curled up in the crook of her waist, and the rays of the sun shone brightly off his golden scales. He was quite beautiful in the morning light, looking something like a tiny sun himself. The dignitaries had already risen, and were packing up their belongings as Victoria rose and stretched. Her dragon roused from his sleep, and gave a small yawn, revealing his hook-lined tongue. It suddenly struck Victoria that in a few short months, he would be large enough to ride. She had known it before, but when she cradled the baby dragon, it seemed odd that he would grow to be so much larger than she.

"Look, Argetlam." One of the dignitaries, a man with shining silver hair, was pointing out to the East, where Victoria could see a fast-moving shape on the horizon. As it came near, she could see that it was a sparking amethyst dragon, souring toward them at break-neck speed. "Your escort is here," said the man.

The dragon closed to the copse of trees; it was huge, larger than Victoria could believe. It must have had a seventy-foot wingspan. On its back rode a stout dwarf with a long black beard. A sword rested in a scabbard at his hip, with leather stained the color of his dragon's scales. He passed his hand over the buckles along his legs, muttering to himself as he did so. The buckles undid themselves, and he slipped from the saddle down to the ground.

"Alrighty, so which one o' ye is the Rider?" he asked, his mustache puffing out as he spoke. The dignitaries parted, bowing as they did so, revealing Victoria behind them. The dwarf smiled when he saw her. "Arright, by that there baby durg'n you got, I'm guessin' i's you, innit?" he said.

Victoria, wide-eyed, nodded several times. The dwarf laughed heartily. "No need to be nervous, lit'l' she-elf. My name's Klok, this 'ere is Fiolem," he said, jerking his head toward the massive violet dragon.

_It is a pleasure to meet you, little she-elf. _The dragon's deep voice resonated in her head, so low that it felt like her skull was vibrating.

_It's a pleasure to meet you, too, _Victoria thought, doing her best to project the thought to both dragon and Rider. Judging by the dwarf's reaction, she was successful.

"And just what is yer name?" he asked.

"Victoria," she said hastily, realizing she had failed to introduce herself. She moved her hands behind her back, where the fingers of her left began to tap furiously against the knuckles of her right. She wanted to make a good impression; she definitely didn't want to offend the dwarf.

"Well, that's a preh'y name, innit?" he said with another hearty laugh. "Don't hear nuthin' like tha' among us dwarves! Our women-folk all go' names like Agnes an' Vilka! Sometimes I'm wishin' we could take a lead from you elves!"

Victoria smiled then. Whatever else he was, Klok was certainly quite jovial, and his presence lightened her spirits.

Once again, Fiolem's voice resonated in her mind. _We best be off, _he said. _New Vroengard is still many miles from here, and it would be wise to begin as soon as we can. _

Klok nodded; Fiolem was clearly broadcasting his thoughts to all in the group. The dignitaries had stepped back, and now bowed again, signaling their farewell to the two Dragon Riders. Victoria nodded a thank you to them; they had been quite kind to her during their journey, even if they had been distant. They gave slight nods of their head in return, mounted their horses, and turned to ride away, the riderless pony trailing along behind them.

Victoria turned back to Klok, who met her gaze with a wide smile. "Arright, li'l' elf, you rea'y t' see yer new home?" Victoria nodded, her enthusiasm beginning to break through her nervousness. She could feel the little dragon's enthusiasm too, bleeding through their mind link. Victoria couldn't say whether he really understood what was going on, but this was the first dragon he had seen since hatching. If nothing else, he was probably happy for that.

_Climb up, little she-elf, _came Fiolem's voice. Victoria started, and made her way over to the massive dragon. Fiolem stooped down, and Klok helped Victoria up into the saddle. Her little dragon followed her up, and she took him from Klok's stout hands.

"Righ' in there!" Klok called from the ground, indicating a little sack on the side of Fiolem's saddle. "Don' wan' the li'l' guy ta'in' a fall from this heigh'!" Victoria nodded – again – and gently dropped the little dragon down into the pouch.

Klok chuckled as he climbed into the saddle behind her. "Wha's wrong? Durg'n go' yer tongue?"

Victoria started, and opened her mouth the speak, and she had to force the sound to come. "Uh, no. No, sir," she said, tripping over the three-and-a-half words.

Klok barked another laugh. "I'm no' 'sir' to ye, lassie," he said. "Yer a Durg'n Ri'er jus' li'e me! We're all equals in New Vroengard!"

"Yes," Victoria caught herself before she called him 'sir' again.

"Klok," the dwarf finished for her. "Jus' Klok among Ri'ers." And with that, Fiolem's great wings spread wide, and they lifted off with a great _woomph! _The air rushed by Victoria's ears, deafeningly loud, as they climbed high into the sky. Her dragon poked its golden head up above the rim of the pouch and looked around. It didn't try to move, clearly aware of the consequences of such an action.

_Smarter than an elven child, for sure, _Victoria thought.

_Or a dwarf, _came Klok's voice in her mind. She started, throwing a glance back over her shoulder. He gave a pained look. _Sorry, _he said. _Thought you meant us to hear it. The Masters will teach you not to broadcast your thoughts._

_Masters? _Victoria asked.

_The greatest of our order. Oldest, too, usually. The Shadeslayer up in the Great Tree's the Grandmaster, but we don't see much of __'__im anymore, _Klok replied. His mental voice carried very little of the accent his actual one did.

_Why not? _Victoria asked.

_Spends all his time pouring over old tomes. Some say he's seeking lost knowledge to empower the order. Others say he's startin' to go senile young, _Klok said.

_But he__'s__ the greatest Rider th__ere's ever been__! _Victoria thought, as forcefully as she could.

_Hm. Well, I won't be weighin' in on that one. __Some say that knowin' the Name alone makes 'im the most powerful being ever to walk the Earth. Others say that takin' out old Galby was a fluke that he never would have accomplished on 'is own, _Klok said. _And while I won't be takin' sides in whether he should be headin' the Order or not, I will say this: he coudln't o' taken Galby alone. That's a fact, one that he's admitted 'imself. But he displays more wisdom than he's got any right to at thirty-eight years, and there's a strength in knowing you can't do it alone. And on top of all that, twenty years is a long time. He's come far since that battle. I don't know how powerful he is, but trust me when I say I've no intention of challenging 'im any time soon._

Victoria was quiet. She'd been obsessed with the Dragon Riders as long as she could remember, and Eragon Shadeslayer was the hero of their story. He and his great dragon Saphira had led the Varden against the Empire, and had defeated the Dark King Galbatorix. He was Victoria's idol, the hero she'd spent her childhood longing to be. She stared at one of Fiolem's amethyst scales, her thoughts spiraling away from her control. How could anyone thing he wasn't the absolute best possible leader of the New Order? It was beyond her. He was a symbol, an effigy of all that was righteous and just in the world, standing against evil and chaos.

_Victoria, _came the little dragon's voice, piercing her thoughts and stopping the spiraling train in its tracks. He didn't say anything else, but somehow, just that one word settled her racing mind, calming her thoughts. She looked down at him, and he met her gaze with warm eyes. His gaze was comforting, in a very strange way, yet a very perfect way. It dawned on her then, that it was because he understood exactly what she was feeling. There was no miscommunication, no failure of translation. He felt what she did. It was a strange thought.

_Victoria, _he said again.

_Dragon, _she replied, a smile tugging at the corner's of her lips.

_Sol, _he said.

Victoria started in the saddle. Klok looked down at her, a curious look in his eye.

_Sol, _the dragon repeated. Dragon and Rider locked gazes, and Victoria could feel the pride and excitement pouring through from the little dragon's mind.

_Sol, _he said for a third time, and Victoria understood.

"Sol," Victoria said aloud. "His name is Sol."

Klok laughed aloud. "I's a good name for 'im don't ya think?"

_It is indeed, _came Fiolem's voice. _You're going to do great things, little Sol. _

The little dragon – Sol – beamed.

"Sol," Victoria said again. She reached down, and stroked him across the head. He made a purring, chirping sound, and nuzzled her hand.

"Sol."


	3. New Vroengard

Chapter Three:

New Vroengard

When she saw it on the horizon, Victoria could hardly believe her eyes. They had been travelling for eight hours when it came into view, and Sol was sleeping soundly in the small pouch on the side of Fiolem's saddle. Klok and Fiolem had been quiet for most of the ride, and Victoria had hardly cared. Soaring above the Earth, she'd spend the whole time marveling at the view. She could see for miles, the horizon plunging away and her view dominated by the massive blue dome of the sky.

Most of the flight, she'd seen only the endless stretch of the Green Sea, but just after noon, a range of mountains had come into view. They were massive, snow-capped affairs; Victoria had never been beyond the bounds of Du Weldenvarden before, and she marveled at the jutting stone spikes, rising up as though they were the teeth of the world itself. Klok had told her that they were small compared to the Beor Mountains that the dwarves called home; Victoria wasn't sure if she believed him or not. How something could be larger than the mountains she'd seen were beyond her.

They'd crossed over the first line of mountains, and into a beautiful valley. Mountains surrounded it, forming a natural bowl a dozen miles across. Waterfalls cascaded from crags in the mountainous walls, flowing into sparking rivers that crisscrossed the valley. Rolling green hills alternated with areas of woodland, giant sequoias interspersed with redwoods and birch trees. It was the image of paradise, Victoria thought; all it needed was a rainbow over the top.

And in the center of it all was a massive willow tree, climbing what had to be several thousand feet in the air, with a trunk a hundred yards thick. The branches of the tree sprawled out over the valley, a mile in diameter, their hanging leaves creating a screen around the base of the tree and the center of the valley. Fiolem carried them toward the curtain, and the ropes of green parted for them as they did, just wide enough for Fiolem to pass through.

Inside the curtain, Victoria was confronted with a sight as awe-inspiring as the valley itself: New Vroengard. Buildings in the flowing style of her homeland were spread out over the ground, and twisting, branching paths lined the ground between them, running through copses of trees or along streams. Tall spires pierced the air, though they were dwarfed by the seeming infinite height of the willow, which Victoria could now see balconies scattered regularly around its massive girth.

But perhaps most magnificent of all were the dragons. There were hundreds of them, perched on the balconies of the spires, and soaring through the air around her, or bathing in the streams, and frolicking in the meadows. They were of every color and hue imaginable, like a living, ever-changing rainbow, except with many, many more colors.

Victoria was awe-struck. She found herself slack-jawed, and as soon as she realized it, she quickly composed herself. Klok chuckled behind her. "It's quite somethin' innit?"

"It's beautiful," Victoria breathed. She found herself unable to speak at greater volume, it seemed like it would somehow disturb the beauty and tranquility she found herself surrounded by.

Klok chuckled again. "It is. It really is."

Fiolem drifted gently down, and landed with remarkable grace for a dragon his size in a large courtyard that sat next to the trunk of the massive willow. A pair of suitably magnificent double doors were set into the trunk of the tree, and they opened as the amethyst dragon touched down. From within emerged an elf astride a white dragon, even larger than Fiolem. He had silver hair that fell loosely down his back, though his bangs were braided back behind his head. He wore a white cloak over loose silken garments, with leather boots adorning his feet. The hilt of a single-handed sword protruded over his right shoulder.

Victoria slipped down from Fiolem's saddle, and Klok lifted Sol down to her. She didn't realize until she hit the ground how sore the hours in the saddle had left her. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and she had to fight to keep from falling down right there. Some first impression that would have been. The white-clad elf slipped from his saddle as well, landing lightly. He walked over to her, his steps making no noise on the packed dirt of the courtyard.

"Hello, there," he said gently, kneeling down in front of her. He paused for a moment, and then said, "You can sit down if you want. I'm surprised your legs didn't fall right out from under you." He smiled lightly, a warmth coloring his hazel eyes.

Victoria dropped gratefully to the ground, her shaking legs singing her praises for the reprieve. She looked up at the elven man, who had assumed a cross-legged position, and was sitting with his hands in his lap.

"My name is Wyndirel, and this is Beliera.

_Hello, little one, _came a female voice in Victoria's mind.

_Hello, _Victoria answered.

"I'll be serving as your Master here," Wyndirel said.

"Master?" Victoria asked. She had tried to keep her tone neutral, but the word was clearly colored with disdain.

Wyndirel laughed a bright, musical laugh. "Your instructor. Master is my title in the Order," he said. "You're by no means bound to me."

Victoria nodded, a smile coming to her face. Wyndirel looked down at Sol then, and said, "He's a beautiful one, isn't he? Has he chosen a name, yet?"

"Sol," Victoria responded. Pride filled her voice as she said it. He'd only spoken it for the first time that morning, and her heart still thrummed with happiness every time she did. "He chose it this morning."

Wyndirel smiled widely. "That's wonderful!" he said. "A lovely name." He looked up at Klok then, acknowledging the dwarf for the first time. Klok met his gaze, and something wordless was exchanged. Victoria looked on curiously, but said nothing. Wyndirel stood then, and offered Victoria a hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she kept her stance.

"I should return to my duties," Klok said, then. "It was very nice to meet you, Victoria," he said, offering her a stout hand.

"And you, Klok," Victoria said, taking his hand in her much smaller, much lighter one. Her fingers barely wrapped around two of his. The dwarf then climbed back atop his purple dragon, and in a rush of wind, they lifted into the air, and were gone.

"Come," Wyndirel said. "I'll show you to your room." He turned on his heel, and walked back toward the Willow. Victoria trailed after him, cradling Sol in her arms. He led her through the massive doors, and into an up-sloping passage, that swooped out to the left before curving back to the right. The hall was in the shape of an arch, peaked at the top, with doors on either side every twenty feet or so. Beliera did not follow them in; she spread her wings and rose into the air, and Victoria caught a glimpse of her spiralling up the trunk just before she crossed the threshold.

They walked for a long time, and Victoria's aching legs began to protest once more. She did not protest, though. If this was to be her instructor, she didn't want him to think she was weak. So she powered on, though her legs grew increasingly stiff and difficult to move. After what seemed like forever but was surely only a minute or two, Wyndirel stopped at a door on the left side of the hallway, and held out a hand for Victoria to continue on. She did so, opening the small door and entering into the room on the far side.

It, like everything else in New Vroengard it seemed, was a marvel. The walls swooped up toward an arched roof, the light, golden brown wood reflecting the rays of the setting sun that filtered in from the door to the balcony, casting a warm hue throughout the room. The room was furnished sparsely, but not deficiently. A bed, sized perfectly for her, sat in one corner, near a dresser that doubled as a bedside table. A writing desk sat next to the balcony doorway, an inkpen and a ream of parchment sat atop it, and a small chair pushed in beneath it. Several pegs were set in the wall by the door, and a circular, woven throw carpet covered the center of the floor.

"How do you like it?" Wyndirel asked.

Victoria turned back to him, a smile spreading across her face. "It's perfect," she said. "Thank you."

Wyndirel returned her smile. "Do not thank me," he said. "Thank him." He nodded toward the golden bundle in her arms, and Victoria looked down quickly, before looking back at up at Wyndirel, a confused look on her face. The white-haired elf crossed the distance between them, and laid a soft hand against Sol's sleeping form.

"He chose you," Wyndirel said. "It's the greatest honor we can receive, to be deemed worthy by a dragon. They are naturally immortal, and they granted us the gift when the Dragon Riders were formed. They are the greatest creatures of our world, and we must recognize and respect that power."

Victoria nodded, quiet contemplation on her face and in her mind. Wyndirel's words rang true, she thought. She had been taught the history of the elves as all elven children were; she knew that they had only gained the traits that so separated the elves from the other races through their bond with the dragons. Indeed, the magic of the dragons had made them powerful, and without it, their lives would still be claimed by simple years.

Wyndirel shook his head, then, and withdrew his hand from Sol. "But these are not things you need worry about. Rest, now," he said, gesturing to the bed. "In the morning, your training will begin."

Victoria wondered how he could expect her to sleep after a statement like that. It was like telling her to sleep the night before the Blood-Oath Celebration. How could she possibly relax her mind enough to slip away from consciousness with so much anticipation swirling around in her head. Even so, she flopped down into the bed, and Sol curled up next to her, in the crook of her waist.

And she passed out almost instantly. Traveling and flying is a tiring business, and while her mind was racing, her body was exhausted.

Wyndirel closed her door quietly. The spiralling hallway was vacant, the only sound that of his own breathing. He muttered a few words in the Ancient Language, and his feet lifted off the ground, carrying him up the passage. He was deep in thought, and it seemed the journey up passed far too quickly, despite the near-two-thousand-foot climb. He came to his own room, near the top of the Willow, and entered. Beliera lazed on the balcony, her head resting on her forepaws.

_What do you think? _she asked. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her icy blue gaze on him. _Is it her?_

_Too early to tell, _Wyndirel replied. _I must consort with the Grand Master. He will want my report on this matter._

_He will, indeed, _Beliera said. _But what will you tell him? You say it is too early to tell._

_The truth, _Wyndirel replied. _Eragon asked me personally to train this girl, and to report my honest read on the situation. If it is her, then we must prepare accordingly. If it is not, I will still train a great Rider._

_Then you see potential in her? _Beliera asked.

_More than she sees in herself, certainly. She is headstrong, image-conscious. I could feel her worry when I met her; the nervous energy, the sheer energy she put into trying to give a good impression. She will have to overcome those fears, but if she does, she will be among the best of us. And her dragon… Sol, he has decided to call himself._

_Sun, _Beliera translated. _That in itself shows great hubris._

_It does. But hubris backed by power is what makes a legend. There is no success without ambition, and no ambition without pride. Whether they live up… that is what will determine how they are remembered._

_Do you think they will, Wyndirel? _Beliera asked. He could feel her trepidation, her fear, in the face of who this girl might be.

_Too early to tell._


End file.
